He helped her up from the floor. She was bruised, bloody, and shaken. Whatever had happened here, it had been violent and traumatic. The room was a study in chaos.
“You alright?” he asked. No response. Her gaze was distant, focused on something far from here. He tried again. “Hey! Look at me!”
“Are you alright?” She nodded, tentative at first, then more emphatically. “Good,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“S- Sarah.” Definitely in shock.
“Ok, Sarah. It’s ok, now. I’m going to get you out of here.” She sagged against his shoulder.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
He felt her nod. “Attacked.”
“By what?” No response.
Something crashed in the other room. He made her look at him again, helped her focus.
“Ok, Sarah, this is important. The thing that attacked you, it might still be here.” Fear flashed in her eyes. “Can you tell me what it looks like?”
Her face clouded with confusion.
“I- yeah, but it doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s okay. Just tell me.”
“It looked like a pair of folded purple socks.”
[Originally posted at Ficly.]